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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656096">Searching</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JainaDurron7/pseuds/JainaDurron7'>JainaDurron7</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:48:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JainaDurron7/pseuds/JainaDurron7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A small look at Paul Blofis's life as he searches for someone ...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paul Blofis/Sally Jackson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>It's Time You Heard Our Story</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul often joked with his college friends that he was going to college to do two things.</p><p>One: to get his bachelor's degree.</p><p>And two: to get rid of his bachelor title.</p><p>He wanted to find someone. He wanted to find someone like so many of his friends already had. He wanted a woman who was funny and bright, someone who found his quirks endearing rather than annoying. A woman who had plenty of their own quirks, too. A woman who was a bit nerdy too and could embrace it. A book lover, perhaps. A partner he could enthuse with, who agreed wholeheartedly that Fitzgerald’s <em> Great Gatsby </em> was overrated, and that Lurhmann’s production of <em> Romeo and Juliet </em> was the most superior film adaptation to date. He wanted a woman who could show him a greater meaning to life.</p><p>Yeah, real dramatic. But that’s the kind of thing his friends had seemed to find, and that’s what he wanted, too.</p><p>So, he picked a university and went for English education, pleased enough with his choice, not pleased with his destined pay. But he loved English, enjoyed tutoring. It sounded a good enough fit for him.</p><p>His freshmen year rolled by and he never ran into Her. He was still young, he reminded himself, and geared up for another year of studying.</p><p>He made new friends in college, trudged together through their science and math credits, debated whether feminist or Marxist criticism was most applicable to Maupassant’s “The Diamond Necklace”, and, of course, talked women.</p><p>One of Paul’s new college friends found a woman. They started dating sophomore year and hit it off. <em> They’re going to get married, </em>Paul thought. And it would be nice for them.</p><p>While the new flirting couple were out, Paul and the rest of his friends spent long nights at the campus library and studied.</p><p>Sophomore year rolled by and he never ran into Her.</p><p>Paul would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed when junior year rolled by too without a sign from Her. He remembered he had a degree to earn, a job to someday fight for. So, he focused on his studies, prepared for his semester of student teaching, always keeping an eye open for Her.</p><p>He graduated, most of his friends either engaged or biding their time. He’d finished school and it was time to get a job. To go back to school.</p><p>He got a job at a middle school in Buffalo. Both middle school and Buffalo were not his first options, but he was new, and he had to take what he could get.</p><p>However, it wasn’t long before he decided becoming a teacher was the best decision he’d made. He wasn't so fond of 12, 13, or 14-year-olds, but he still cared about them and loved watching them learn. When they decided they wanted to learn. He loved having new students, getting to know them, listen to their blunt opinions on literature and how boring Agatha Christie’s ‘murder book’ was, or how ‘Poe just needed to chill out’. He became fascinated with how kids saw things, how the literature he’d studied in college and wrote his thesis on meant something completely different to each of the thirty teens facing him.</p><p>Paul continued to work hard and eventually got a position in a high school in Manhattan. Goode High School. It’s just in Paul’s dorky humor that he still finds that humorous.</p><p>But he loved Goode. He loved the staff, the students— the admin were alright. And everything about being at Goode felt just right. His old college friends were all happily married, most with children, and Paul— though still plenty young enough, Mrs. Fairsky from down the hall always promised him— mourned the thought that he may well have ‘missed the window’, and he resigned himself to the idea of living his life out as the single English teacher who every student understood why he was single.</p><p>But he loved his job. He loved his students, loved coming to work, teaching his students something, getting them to understand the beauty of reading and the endless possibilities of writing. His students were his kids, he came to realize, and that ought to be plenty of family for him.</p><p>He decided to go back to school, learn more, maybe so he could teach more extracurriculars, pick up the creative writing class Philips left last semester. He started going to seminars at the local colleges if only for fun. He wanted to learn as much as he could so he could become a better teacher so he could be better for his students. Plus, it was a good example for them, he thought. He was still learning right alongside them, and that motivated them.</p><p>Some time into his back-to-school adventures, Paul decided he did want to teach the creative writing class at Goode. He hadn’t taken many creative writing classes in his college days, so he marked all the seminars he could find onto his schedule and took up reading more of whatever his kids were reading.</p><p>Something about this choice felt so right, brought an odd thrill to Paul which he didn’t understand considering the minuscule significance merely adding another class to his schedule ought to have.</p><p>But when he had a doubt about adding to his workload and nearly erased all the penciled-in seminar dates from his calendar … He couldn’t bring himself to ignore that odd feeling that had been pushing him this way.</p><p>One month in particular seemed to be filled with these strange feelings and mystical pushes in oddly specific directions. Like, when he’d stopped by his local bookstore for more reading material and a new, fine edition of a Greek myths collection had been marked down rather generously for a one-day sale and he’d decided to buy it. Or, when he’d been planning to see a movie later one week when he’d heard about another seminar being hosted the same night at Columbia. And then that seminar was switched to a hall at NYU instead.</p><p>Paul took a cab to NYU. It was early in the afternoon and traffic shouldn’t have been too awful, but as a native, Paul supposed he should have known better than to underestimate NYC traffic. He fidgeted anxiously, trying to remain patient with the cab driver. He pulled up to the NYU campus just in the nick of time, and Paul hurried to find the correct hall. The seminar was to begin shortly, and most of the seats were already filled when Paul finally found his way. He shuffled through the rows awkwardly, holding his leather satchel up and out of everyone’s way as he sidled his way through until he finally found an empty seat near the back. Relieved, Paul squeezed in front of one last person, cautiously shrugging hisbag off his shoulder as he approached. He cleared his throat and the woman sitting in the next seat looked up at him.</p><p>Her eyes were blue and startling. Not a startling blue, but startling in their intensity, the coexisting youth and wisdom meeting Paul’s gaze measure for measure. Her gently tanned, freckled face was framed by dark, thick, wild curls. She looked like an advenure, and Paul was tempted at that very first sight to say that adventure was calling out to him.</p><p>“Uh,” he fumbled off the bat, quickly looking away. “I don’t suppose this seat is taken.” But his eyes were drawn right back, and he was glad because her generous smile was a sweet melody in visual form.</p><p>“No! No, it’s still open.”</p><p>He nodded once, awkwardly shrugging his bag off his shoulder. “Thank you.”</p><p>She shook her head. “My pleasure.”</p><p>Paul was too distracted to notice if it was another one of his recent <em> feelings </em> that guided him to introduce himself as he settled into his seat. “Uh, my name is Paul, by the way.” He held out his hands and she shook it firmly, plenty friendly. "Sally,” she replied.</p><p>Dumbly, he merely echoes, “Paul.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sally Jackson is an adventure. She isn’t a kickstart in Paul’s life, but the real beginning. Of this, he is sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her very presence is comforting and exciting. Her smile is contagious, and her eyes are always alight with hope. A hope Paul never knew this world needed. She is compassionate and empathetic, and Paul knows he will never meet anyone with nearly as big a heart as hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is always laughing, always smiling. It’s as if she has just refound laughter, and another feeling tells Paul that’s exactly it. But she is so joyous and caring, and Paul is caught up in it. She makes him smile more and laugh more, and after the first week of knowing Sally Jackson, his students tease him mercilessly that he must be seeing someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t like that right away, but they do hit it off fairly quickly. She makes for a wonderful friend, and she’s anxious for any help she can get in studying. Paul is more than happy to provide his services. She tells him some about herself, how she had dreams of going to college and becoming a writer, but she had to drop out of highschool and never had the chance to go back until now. She’s a quick study, an eager student, and Paul is blown away by her enthusiasm, her desire to soak up all she can and put her best foot forward. There must be a story behind it, but Paul is more interested in the woman before him now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They meet frequently to study together, often meeting at coffee shops. The first time she invites him to her place, she seems rather embarrassed. Her apartment is cramped and messy, boxes piled high, lining each wall. A pile of poker chips and cigarette butts litter the floor beneath the table. Sally pales, her cheeks flushing. “Gods, I’m so sorry!” She’s always saying that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As in, plural. Paul finds it quirky which he finds endearing. She hurries to sweep the garbage away, dumping even the poker chips straight into the garbage. “I swear these aren’t mine! They’re …” She trails off, mumbling something under her breath. “As you can already see, I’m in the middle of moving and I’m still cleaning up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sally has a kid, too, which surprises Paul when she first mentions her teenage son. Paul can tell that the boy, Percy, is her entire world which he finds even more endearing. When she talks about him, her words are careful. Her tone is full of love and dedication, but Paul can tell she’s choosing her words carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So much of her life is a secret. Careful words as her tongue dances elegantly on tiptoes around so many subjects. Her ex (though, boyfriend or husband, it’s months until Sally tells him), her son. Paul can’t tell whether her ex who has recently left the picture is Percy’s father or not. Either way, he doesn’t judge. Sally makes her son out to sound like the sweetest boy, though she doesn’t deny his penchant for finding trouble. Or, as she phrases it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>trouble finding him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But they share a special relationship, Paul can tell, and he is amazed by the love and patience Sally has for her son.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Months pass and Paul only finds himself increasingly drawn to Sally Jackson. He falls in love with her, and he grows nervous as he realizes that he has grown such strong feelings for someone because he knows that feelings are fragile, and he fears the possibility of things not working out between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, over the months, she opens up more to him. When he thinks it safe, he asks about her ex, if he is Percy’s father. Sally appears repulsed by the idea and quickly assures him of otherwise. She tells him very little about Percy’s father— just enough to fill in the basic blanks of her story. She met Percy’s father in Montauk when she was just 19. They parted ways peacefully, she insists, though she was left alone expecting a baby. Immediately, Paul dislikes the guy. To think that he could take a woman’s heart, then leave her when she was with child, without the means of supporting the baby. But Sally doesn’t seem so bothered. Paul wants to understand, but she breezes over this part. She explains how she needed … support. She struggles to come up with this word for a long moment, like she’s trying to find a word to glamour the truth and has come to settle for this one. But that’s how she found her ex-husband.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Paul dislikes Sally’s long ago lover, he downright hates Gabriel Ugliano. Sally doesn’t say much about him either, but she says just enough in her words and her expressions for Paul to put plenty of pieces together. The cigarette butts and poker chips, he figures, must have been his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, Paul knows Sally isn’t the type to take charity; she’s an honest, hardworking, proud woman. But Paul feels the need to give her the world. To show her love, make her feel loved. Gods, he loves her, and he wants to be sure she feels that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About your ex …” Paul once asks on a quiet night they’re sharing at Sally’s new apartment on her couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s gone for good,” she assures him. One might ask how, but there’s something in her voice that makes Paul trust her words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Percy’s dad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sally smiles a bit, staring ahead. “He pays his child support, but you don’t have to worry about him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul is glad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because he’s falling in love with Sally Jackson, and he wants her to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Never has he felt so selfish or desperate before. Never has he felt so vulnerable or needy. No emotion so primal and raw has ever torn through his awareness like this before, and it leaves him awake at night sometimes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sally is beautiful. She has a beautiful heart, a beautiful mind. Whenever they get together, he can’t get enough. Enough time, enough of her smiles, enough of her gentle kisses. They’re pressing close to dangerous new territory, and all Paul wants to do is tear through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s official. He’s in love with Sally Jackson, and he spends a whole night wide awake once in pure amazement and terror when he realizes that he’s found Her.</span>
</p>
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